


Loss and the Finding

by Westwardflight



Category: Eureka
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s01e08 Right as Raynes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-16
Updated: 2011-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 19:12:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Westwardflight/pseuds/Westwardflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He couldn’t shake the image of Stark kneeling over Callister, of the blinding grief and hurt that sat alien and unfamiliar on Stark’s face, of the familiar mask that will back in place by morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loss and the Finding

The silence rested thick and heavy between them. He glanced at Stark for a moment, and considered not breaking it. Jack never was any good at heeding warnings.

“Are you okay?” he asked, words scratching at his throat as he forced them out.

Stark didn’t seem to hear him.

For a moment, he thought about not pushing any further, about leaving Stark to stare at the road and pretend there isn’t a body in the trunk. “Stark?”  
“I’m fine, Carter, just fine.” Words usually spat with relish fell flat and motionless, shattering on the ground between them.

Zoe gave a little hiccupping sob in the back seat.

He didn’t try again until they were back in city limits. “Do you need me to help...” he trailed off, unable to find a tactful way to phrase the question because there is no way he could use the phrase ‘dispose of the body’ and ever be able to look Stark in the eye again.

Stark still didn’t look at him. “Just drop us at my lab, please.”

“Are you sure?”

Stark tore his eyes away from the road, looking at Jack for the first time since they got in the car. “Please, just drop us at the lab.”

His tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Before tonight he had never thought about Stark having something as human as feelings. “No worries. Just- Call me if you need anything.”

Stark gave a tight nod, then went back to staring at the road.

“Zoe, close your eyes,” Jack warned when they pulled up outside the lab. She sobbed again, but did what he said. “Stark, I’ll help you carry him inside.”

He looked for a moment like he was going to argue, but his shoulders sagged and he sighed instead. For a moment, Jack wished Stark had told him to go fuck himself. This was too hard to fit with everything he thought he knew about the scientist.

He popped the trunk, and slid out of the car; he turned away, giving Stark a moment to stand over Callister’s body and pull himself together. “You ready?” he asked quietly, knowing the answer would be a lie.

“Of course. Let’s get him inside.”

Stark slid his hands under Callister’s arms, Jack grabbed his feet and they manoeuvred him inside, laying him gently on the bench.

He touched Stark’s arm, but Stark pulled away as though burnt. Jack paused to weigh his word, then said reassuringly, “I mean it, Stark. If you need me, just call.”

It was a shadow of a smile, but it was there and it was genuine. “Thanks, Carter.”

Jack trudged back to the car, feeling the weight of today in each footstep. He slammed the trunk, shockingly loud in the quiet night. Zoe startled at the sound with a tiny cry. He climbed into the backseat beside her, and pulled her close. “Are you okay?” he mumbled into the top of her head.

She shook her head, sobbing again.

“Of course you aren’t. Let’s go home.” He held her tight for a second, then dropped a kiss on her crown. He climbed over to the driver’s seat and headed for the bunker.

The silence on the way back to the bunker was still fraught, but easier than it had been. She was dozing again by the time they pulled up. He considered waking her, but instead picked her up like he used to when she was little and they’d had a long day at the beach.

He tucked her in, warm and safe in her own bed. He sat carefully beside her, trying not to disturb her and stroked her cheek, deliberately not thinking about all the myriad things that could have gone worse today. He leant down and kissed her on the cheek. “Good night, Zo,” he whispers.

She just snuggled in deeper under the covers.

He went for a shower, hoping to wash the weight of today from his aching muscles. It bought him little relief.

“S.A.R.A.H., beer me,” he said, curling up on the couch in his pyjamas and flicking through the channels until he found a game.

He felt as though his skin was stretched to tightly across his body, like the slightest movement would tear him open and expose him to the world. He couldn’t shake the image of Stark kneeling over Callister, of the blinding grief and hurt that sat alien and unfamiliar on Stark’s face, of the familiar mask that will back in place by morning.

“Shit,” he said quietly into the empty room.

He tipped the remaining beer into the sink, grabbed his dressing gown and hopped back in the car.

He pulled up outside Stark’s lab, got out of the car, sat on the hood, and waited. The night was just starting to give way to watery sunlight when he emerged from the lab, looking totally and completely wrecked. He looked at Jack for a moment, then kept walking.

“Want a ride home? It is a bit of a walk,” he said, voice hoarse from disuse.

“I’m fine, Carter. I told you I would call you if I needed anything.”

“Get in the damn car, Stark.” He didn’t mean to snap, but if it made Stark stop and listen, he would count it as a win.

“Why, Sheriff, I didn’t know you cared,” the words were familiar, but the tone was something he had never heard before.

Jack opened the passenger door, then walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in. Stark stood for a moment, considering, then walked over and climbed in beside him.

For a brief and stupid second, he considered asking what Stark did with Callister, but instead told him, “You are calling in sick tomorrow.”

Stark rested his head on the window pain, and Jack shivered sympathetically because it must be cold. “Can we just _not_ right now?”

Jack shrugged and waited.

“How is Zoe?”

That was not what he was expecting. “Sleeping. It has been a rough day for her.”

“I am sorry she got swept up in this. She should never have-” He stopped when Jack put a hand on his shoulder, staring at it as though it was an alien growth.

“Nathan, she is fine.”

Stark didn’t say anything else until they get to his house. “Thank you, Carter, for coming back.”  
“I’m not leaving yet.”

“Carter-”

“I’m not giving you a choice here, Stark. I am going to come in, make sure you eat something, make sure you bathe, make sure you sleep.”

Stark’s mouth tightened and Jack was almost hoping for a reaction, for Stark to shout or swear or punch. Instead he just got out of the car, unlocked the front door, and let Jack inside.

Jack shooed him off to shower while he organised breakfast. Once he heard the water start running he called Allison. “He isn’t coming in today,” he said without preamble.

“That’s fine, he has plenty of sick leave. Jack, is he okay?”

He shrugged before he realised she can’t see him. “He’s Stark. For a working definition of ‘okay’ he is okay.”

The pause stretched long enough that he thought maybe the line had gone dead, but then she said, “Take care of him, Jack.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

Jack prepared a simple breakfast, eggs, toast, and coffee.

“Won’t your daughter be missing you?” Nathan stood at the foot of the stairs, wearing a pair of track pants and no shirt.

“I left her a note. I’m sure she’ll understand.” He would not be distracted by something so stupidly inappropriate as lust, even if Nathan was still damp. “Now, food.”

Stark yawned, and joined him at the table.

He watched Stark like a hawk while they eat; watching as he mechanically chewed and swallowed everything Jack puts on his plate. Jack was almost sure that he doesn’t taste a single mouthful of it.

“Right, now you are going to go up to bed and stay there until at least tomorrow.”

He followed Stark upstairs almost without thinking. Stark hovered for a moment at the entrance to his room, staring at Jack with an intensity usually reserved for Allison or new data. He could feel a flush creeping up the back of his neck under the scrutiny. “What?” he asked, defensively.

“Nothing.” Then he pushed Jack against the door frame, roughly shoving a thigh between Jack’s legs, and kissing him, hot and desperate.

And for a moment, Jack gave in, fists a hand in Stark’s hair and claws at his back. “Fuck,” he breathed, before he pushed Stark away. “Stark. Nathan. Wait. Just, wait.”

Nathan was breathing heavily, keeping him pressed against the door frame.

“Maybe we should try this again another time. I’ll buy you dinner first, maybe even a drink,” he said, trying not to stare at Nathan’s mouth.

“Please, Jack.”

The words were warm against his skin and he could feel his defences crumbling. _This is wrong. This is so very wrong._

Nathan ground his thigh against Jack’s cock and _oh God_ it had been so long.  
“Are you sure?” He tried to stifle his own desperation, knowing he would beg given the slightest chance.

Nathan just kissed him again, biting at his lower lip and sliding a hand under his pyjama top.

 _Fuckfuckfuck_ he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but kiss back and ignore the shame that sat low in his belly.

It might be the saddest sex he had ever had. Nathan was raw and desperate and everything hurt, but he couldn’t stop while Nathan was looking at him like that, like he was the answer to a question no one had thought to ask.

Every so often he tried to slow things down, to sweeten things up, to make this feel like more than what it was, Nathan just bit, and ground down even harder.

He was utterly destroyed when it was all over, and Nathan was lying beside him facing the other way. “Nathan, are you okay?”

“Go home to your daughter, Carter.”

It’s like a physical blow, taking the wind right out of him.

“Nathan,” and he was definitely begging that time.

He didn’t answer, but his shoulders were shaking and Jack thought maybe this was the end of something he hadn’t even realised was starting.

Nathan curled a bit tighter, and Jack dragged himself out of the bed. He couldn’t leave. It might be the worst God damn time in the entire world, but he couldn’t just leave. So he went into the bathroom and returned with a warm, damp flannel. He pressed up behind Nathan, wiping him down gently, pretending not to notice the tears.

He curled protectively around Nathan - until Jo called to tell him he needed to come in.

Nathan blinked sleepily at him as he threw on his pyjamas. Jack leaned down and kissed him softly. “I will come by this afternoon. Take care of yourself until then.”

He tried to ignore Nathan rolling away from him, pulling his knees up to his chest.

*

The door was locked when he goes back that night, and Nathan wouldn’t answer his phone. Jack considered camping outside again, but he had to go home tonight. Zoe needed him. He banged on the door one more time, kicked it, and left a trail of curse words behind him like breadcrumbs.

*

Each dodged phone call caught in his throat. Some days he could barely breathe with them sitting there, reminding him how badly he’d fucked it all up when he took advantage of a grieving man.

Allison pulled him aside and asked what he did to Nathan. She could be incredibly intimidating when she wanted to be.

He mostly stared at his shoes and promised to fix it, and, if he couldn’t fix it, at least never ruin things so badly ever again.

She glared at him, but let him go with a warning.

*

The risk of apocalypse forced them to re-learn how to work together. Nathan had newly formed sharp edges that caught Jack at the most unexpected times. He never expected to miss being mocked and berated, but Nathan used to do it with such relish. Now he mostly avoided eye contact with Jack, only speaking to him through Henry and Allison, slipping quietly away when it might be just the two of them.

Jack tried to pull him aside just for a moment, but Nathan would not let himself be drawn.

One time he grabbed Nathan’s arm in a last ditch attempt to make him listen, but the look on Nathan’s face was enough to make him drop it in an instant. “Nathan, I’m sorry,” he said in a rush.

The stony mask cracked for a second, and a sad smile seeped through. “I know.”

It was easier after that. Sharp edges were worn down to something safer, more manageable. They left bruises rather than gaping wounds. It wasn’t comfortable, but Jack didn’t come away from each encounter feeling like the world was collapsing around him.

*

His hands were trembling uncontrollably as he tried to unbutton his shirt. Jack swore when the button refused once more to slip through and free him from this God forsaken item of clothing.

He could feel the itch of blood drying, binding the fabric to his skin. He swore again and wrenched it loose, sending buttons skittering across the floor.  
His breath was coming in short pants. S.A.R.A.H was burbling away at the very edge of his hearing, drowned out by the roaring in his ears.

He lashed out when a hand presses warm and solid on his shoulder, fist connecting with someone’s cheek.

“Well that was unnecessary,” and fuck he could not deal with Stark right now. He threw another punch, but was clumsy and easily caught. “Easy, Carter.” There was no warning in his voice, but he kept Jack’s hands held tight between his own.

“Fuck off, Nathan,” he spat, trying to tear his hands free. Bastard was deceptively strong for someone who worked in a lab all day.

“Breathe, Jack,” he murmured, jerking Jack forward so he was pressed against Nathan, then wrapping his arms around Jack in one smooth motion. “She is going to be okay.”

Jack was still shaking violently, and Nathan was muttering nothings in his ear. He half-heartedly tried to push Nathan away, but he remained solid and unmoving. The fight leached out of him in stages, leaving him collapsed against Nathan. If he let out a sob, well, neither of them would ever mention it.

“Okay, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, pulling back slightly. Jack tried to follow as Nathan moved, but he was firmly kept away. “First things first. Arms up.”

It was impossible to argue with that tone of voice, so Jack obediently put his arms up and let Nathan pull his shirt and undershirt over his head. Nathan threw them aside and led Jack into the bathroom.

“S.A.R.A.H, run it how he usually has it. You, finish getting undressed and hop in.”

His hands were not yet steady enough to handle anything so complicated as a belt buckle, so he looked up at Nathan, who just smiled sadly and undid his belt and fly. He kicked his trousers and his shoes off, stumbling slightly when he bent over to take off his socks.

He climbed into the shower, letting the water wash away the blood that has caked all over his body. He stared at it swirling pink down the drain, frozen.  
Nathan stepped in behind, clad only in his boxers. “It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he said, as he started lathering Jack up. Jack was docile and pliable, letting  
Nathan do whatever needed doing.

It took a lot of scrubbing to get rid of all the blood. Jack was lost in his own head for most of it, only just aware of what Nathan was doing. He was only brought back to reality when Nathan put a pair of boxers in his hand. Apparently, he was clean and dry now. He wasn’t entirely sure how that happened, but it felt much better than before.

“Get dressed, Jack.” It was that same tone of voice; Jack thought maybe he was beginning to understand a bit more about Fargo after having it turned on him.

When he was fully clothed again, Nathan led him out to the car. “We can go back to the infirmary now. I promise you, she will be unconscious but fine when we get there.”

He couldn’t help the growl that slipped out at the phrase ‘unconscious but fine’ because Zoe was his daughter and she was by no definition fine.

“Sorry, that came out wrong,” Nathan muttered, prodding Jack towards the car. “Now get in so you can go see her.”

Nathan talked for the whole trip, mostly about the aftermath of the experiment. Jack, at best, was only half listening; mostly he was pretending Nathan’s calm voice meant everything was under control even though they were in Eureka and nothing was ever ‘under control’.  
In his eagerness to see Zoe, he almost fell out of the car when they pulled up at GD. He didn’t even noticed that Nathan stayed in the car, resting his head on the steering wheel.

*

He couldn’t believe he was here again. Zoe was fully recovered without so much as a scar to show for her almost bleeding to death in her father’s arms. She was at home - Pilar and Lucas helping her catch up on all the school she missed - and he was outside Nathan Stark’s house, fingers pitter-pattering on the six pack beside him, waiting for the idiot to finish work for the day.

He really did not think this through. Of course Nathan stayed at work until ridiculous o’clock at night. He was Nathan; work was what he did. He scuffed the ground with his boot and decided next time he camped out he was bringing a book or something.

It was 10pm when Nathan’s car finally pulled into the drive. He looked worried when he got out of the car, and Jack could see the questions he was about to ask – ‘is everyone okay, what is on fire, is Zoe safe?’

So he headed him off. “I brought food, which was hot three hours ago, and beer.”

The longer Nathan stood there staring at him, the less certain he was that this was a good idea.

“Nathan?”

He took a deep breath. “How is Zoe?” he asked, unlocking the door to let them both in.

“Recovering nicely and thriving in the spotlight,” he said with a wry smile.

“Good. That’s good.”

Jack busied himself re-heating the food, and serving it. They ate in uncomfortable silence and Nathan kept staring at him. He felt like a bug under a magnifying glass, waiting for Nathan’s gaze to intensify enough that he burst into flames.

“Why are you here, Jack?” he finally asked when the plates had been put aside and the beers cracked open.

There was no way in hell he could put it into words, so he put the beer down, leant over and kissed him. Nathan didn’t respond, nor did Jack really expect him to. He knew the difference between hopes and expectations all too well after living in Eureka.

When Jack pulled away, Nathan took a sip of beer, and said, “No, Jack.”

“I want to do it right this time, and apologise for last time,” he said after a while. “I should not have done what I did. I took advantage.”

Nathan laughed, but there was no joy in it. “You really did.”

With that, he was almost ready to write it all off then, to flee and never bother Nathan again, but Nathan grabbed his hand.

“I let you. I freely gave my consent. I could have said no and you would have stopped.”

Jack was not at all sure Nathan could have said no, not really. He needed something, anything, everything to make the world stop for a while, and Jack should have known better. He didn’t say anything, though, opening another beer instead.

“I never thanked you for everything else you did that night.” His voice was impossible low, barely audible in the quiet room.  
Jack winced. “Please don’t.”

It hurt less after that – the silence was companionable, occasionally broken with bits of gossip or discussions of baseball. Nathan smiled at him at him a few times, which might be the signal for the four horsemen, but felt more like the sun creeping out after a rainstorm.

When they finished the beer, Nathan stood up and offered Jack a hand. “Coming to bed?”  
His shock must have shown on his face, because Nathan laughed. “To sleep, you idiot.”

Jack smiled and let Nathan pull him upright. “Let’s go.”

The next morning, he found himself in borrowed pyjama pants, half on top of Nathan. It felt like the beginning of something and he couldn’t wait to find out what.


End file.
